


Faction Lines

by eerian_sadow



Series: Avalon [81]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: I'm not sure how to tag this, it doesn't need warnings, it's not even sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-29
Updated: 2008-08-29
Packaged: 2018-09-22 09:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9599675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: Sunstreaker takes an anonymous art commission. And then wishes he hadn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> not much to say about this one, aside from the fact that I’ve been meaning to write it since I read the bunny over at [](http://tf-bunny-farm.livejournal.com/profile)[tf_bunny_farm](http://tf-bunny-farm.livejournal.com/), but just now got to it. And in time for the community’s August contest. :-)

It was such a small, innocuous thing. But despite its commonplace appearance—and the fact that it had been delivered by the Unites States Postal Service—Sunstreaker was surprised that the simple letter had made its way past the security checks. No one ever sent him letters.

He opened the letter, which had no return address, more than a little curious to the contents. The letter was written in careful Cybertronian script that betrayed almost no handwriting characteristics, but had syntax that was distinctly Polyhex in origin. He read the contents carefully.

_Sunstreaker,_

_Please forgive my need to remain anonymous, but should my identity be revealed it would cause trouble for you with both our factions. From this statement, you may correctly assume I am Decepticon. I come before you not as a Decepticon, however, but as a patron to an artist._

_I remember your work from long ago and wish to have a piece of it again._

_I am willing to pay you the full Earth equivalent of your old fee for this commission. I will, however, understand if you chose not to accept. There is no war in art, but sometimes the art is caught up in the politics of war._

_Included with this letter is a pre-addressed envelope. You may use it to send your reply back to me. Should you decline this commission, I will not ask again and you may safely forget it._

_I await your reply, favorable or otherwise._

True to the sender’s word, Sunstreaker found a second envelope tucked inside the one the letter had come in. He thought on the proposition for several long moments. Then, he picked up a pen and a sheet of paper from his desk. His reply was four words long.

_Send me back the details._

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Jazz?”

The Autobot saboteur looked up from the cards he had laid out on the rec room table with a grin. “What can I do for ya, Sunny?”

“Jazz, I hate it when you call me Sunny.” The artist sat down across from the other mech.

“Ya let Blue do it all the time.”

“That’s different.”

“Uh huh.” Jazz seemed unconvinced. “So, what can I do for you?”

Sunstreaker pulled the commission request from subspace and handed it to the saboteur. “I got this in the mail the other day.”

Jazz read it over. When he was finished, he pinned the yellow Twin with a hard look. “Did you take the commission?”

“Yeah. And it didn’t bother me that it was for a Decepticon.” He shrugged. “Not until he sent back the details, anyway. He actually wants two paintings and one of them wasn’t a big deal, but the other one really bothers me, Jazz.”

Jazz was quiet while Sunstreaker took a second letter from subspace and handed it to him. The Twin fidgeted while the saboteur read. Jazz looked equally troubled when he looked back up.

“Sunny, there’s only about four mechs that could have even made this request—and one of them’s dead.”

“I didn’t know about that, but I didn’t think that many mechs would be able to make this kind of request. I don’t think any of the Autobots besides Prowl and I even know you and Soundwave were at the Music Academy together.” Sunstreaker rubbed his face with his hands, a gesture of frustration both he and Bluestreak had picked up from the shopkeeper at the art store he frequented now. “What do I do, Jazz?”

The saboteur was silent for a long moment. “I don’t know. This is a call you have to make. But I will tell you that Soundwave didn’t make this request; he would have told me first and then asked you. Probably in person.”

“I didn’t know you guys were that close.” Sunstreaker was honestly surprised by the saboteur’s statement.

“Best friends since we were sparklings,” Jazz replied. “Speaking of that, how did you know we were at the Music Academy together?”

“Jazz, you’re not even a full meta-cycle older than me and the Art Institute wasn’t more than a mega mile up the road.” Sunstreaker grinned.

“Didn’t think about that,” the saboteur replied. “None of us musicians even thought that you snobby artists paid attention to any of us.”

“Let’s just say that I was heartbroken to find out that you weren’t in the band.”

It was Jazz’s turn to grin. “Well, I was always heartbroken that I didn’t get to meet the great Sunstreaker while he was still painting.”

“Which brings me back to my problem.” Sunny sighed. “I wish I knew how to handle this.”

“You do what you gotta do. And if you need my help, I’m here.”

“Thanks, Jazz. I may need it.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He was signing the first of the commissions when he heard the door open. He turned and gave Bluestreak a smile when the younger mech set a tray of energon on his worktable.

Bluestreak smiled back. “What are you working on?”

“A commission.” Sunstreaker carefully cleaned his paintbrush before turning away from the painting and taking an energon cube. “I have another one, too.”

“I didn’t know you were taking…Primus, that’s Jazz! And Soundwave!” Bluestreak was staring at the picture in surprise. “I didn’t recognize them at first without their visors and without Soundwave’s mask and I don’t know who the other mechs are, but those two are Jazz and Soundwave. Is this for Prowl?”

The artist shook his head. “I don’t know who they’re for. It was an anonymous commission.”

“Does Jazz know?”

“He knows.” Sunny took a drink of his energon. “I told him as soon as I had the details of what my buyer wanted. He didn’t say I couldn’t do it, so I went ahead. I’m going to make him a print before I deliver the original, though.”

“I don’t know if he’ll like that,” Blue said hesitantly.

“He’ll like it,” Sunstreaker countered. “What do you think of it?”

“It’s so…happy. Like nothing at all could hurt them.” Bluestreak reached toward the painting without touching it. “I can almost feel what they’re feeling.”

“Then I did it right.” He put an arm around the younger mech and gave him a hug.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been nervous about meeting a client. He’d probably been young. And the client had probably been Prowl, who was the first mech he’d ever taken a commission from. But he was nervous today.

The Decepticon had chosen a small stretch of blackened, pre-planting Kansas wheat field, unremarkable aside from the fact that it was far away from both bases and any backup if things went wrong. Their appointed meeting time had come and gone two hours ago, but Sunstreaker stayed.

He was beginning to think the whole thing might have been an elaborate set up, though.

His nervousness escalated into full blown fear when Megatron dropped from the sky to land directly in front of him. The rank and file soldiers he could handle, but he was no match for the Decepticon leader; if this was a trap, he was dead.

“You have the paintings?” Megatron asked.

“Yeah.” Sunstreaker was relieved as he pulled them from subspace. If Megatron had been setting him up, he probably wouldn’t have bothered asking about the paintings—he would have just taken them after Sunstreaker had been deactivated.

Megatron took the paintings almost reverently and studied them with a critical eye. “Everything I would have expected from you, Autobot. Such beauty is wasted on the rabble you associate with, though my own troops would never appreciate it properly either.”

Pleasure at the compliment warred with indignance at the slur against the other Autobots. Sunstreaker voiced neither. “Do you have my payment?”

“So eager to be away from someone who appreciates your work? Or don’t you trust me?” Megatron seemed amused.

“I’d rather get lost before Starscream decides to come looking for you.”

“As I have no desire to have an encounter with your brother.” The Decepticon leader pulled a stack of American dollars from subspace and tossed it at Sunstreaker’s feet.

The yellow Twin bent down and picked it up, never taking his eyes off Megatron. “Thanks. Don’t ask me to do this again.”

“I doubt that it could work a second time, even if I tried.” With that, the Decepticon subspaced the paintings and took to the air.

Sunstreaker watched him until he was well out of sight. Then he transformed into his alt mode and drove carefully through the field. He tried not to think about why Megatron would have wanted a painting of young Jazz and Soundwave—or one of Soundwave and Laserbeak. He also tried not to think about where the money had come from and what he should do with it.

Maybe Hound would want the money for the nature program he was trying to start. Something good should come from this.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Megatron looked over the paintings again, well pleased with Sunstreaker’s work. The yellow Twin was an absolute genius when it came to conveying emotion in imagery.

He smiled when he set the painting of Soundwave and his school friends on the communications officer’s desk. The cassette carrier was strangely nostalgic at time, and Megatron knew the painting would please the most favored of his lieutenants. And he had not paid the blue mech nearly enough attention since coming out of stasis lock on this Primus forsaken rock.

He took the second painting back to his own quarters. Soundwave would not be off duty soon enough to make waiting practical and he wanted to hang his picture as soon as possible. When the painting was hanging on the stretch of wall he had chosen for it, he stepped back to examine it again.

Soundwave was perfectly silhouetted in the hanger door of Shockwave’s tower, arms extended to catch a sparkling Laserbeak in his hands. How Sunstreaker had managed to perfectly capture the affection and— he would admit it—love that Soundwave held for his offspring, Megatron would never be able to understand. He did, however, appreciate it.

It said everything about his creation that he could not jeopardize his position by saying.

He turned away from the painting, heading for the command deck. He wanted to be present when Soundwave finished his shift, so that he could follow him to his quarters. He wanted to see the communications officer’s reaction to the picture.

He wanted to remind him that he was still Megatron’s favorite.  



End file.
